


(Not)Alright

by Richie_Rich



Category: The Adventures of Puss in Boots (Cartoon)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:49:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29225745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Richie_Rich/pseuds/Richie_Rich
Summary: He couldn't forget, but at least Dulcinea was right there for him, helping him through it.(Just a short story I was thinking about for a while.)
Relationships: Puss in Boots/Dulcinea
Comments: 2





	(Not)Alright

It was the middle of the night and Puss couldn't sleep.

When Dulcinea had felt his body rising from the bed, she asked what the matter was – as if she didn’t know already. Puss had told her he just needed some fresh air, the most pitiful of excuses. But Dulcinea was gentle, genuinely caring, and loved Puss so much: she’d never press him, if it wasn’t absolutely required.

It was the third of july, and Puss had been up all night.

He couldn’t close his eyes and not see the faces he was so used to being haunted by in his nightmares. They were always present, but on this day in particular it was really very _really_ hard to bear. That day he could not breathe, that day his hands were shaking, that day... he was afraid.

It was a fragility he was sure he wouldn’t get rid of soon, and his ego and pride made him ashamed of it. Dulcinea said it meant he was human, that he was allowed to suffer, to cry and just not be okay sometimes. But he was ashamed of these feelings. He was ashamed of how every year on that very night his heart beat violently against his ribcage and how hard it was for him to think about anything else besides-

The thunder of the impending storm rang over his head. The sound echoed through the slumbering San Lorenzo. The air was warm and steamy. He knew that in a moment it might rain from the huge black clouds. He was aware of it, but he couldn't bring himself to react to the thought.

His hands tightened on the balcony railing, hoping for his nerves to settle down a little bit.

Suddenly, delicate arms wrapped around his chest from behind him, and a warm body pressed against his back. Puss sighed, relaxing slightly as he felt her cheek against his shoulder blade and the way she nuzzled into him.

“You’ve been here for almost an hour.” Dulcinea murmured, one of her hands caressing gently the fur on his stomach.

“Lost track of time.” he replied simply, voice low and shaking.

They remained on that balcony for minutes or maybe hours, Puss couldn’t tell.

The storm infuriated in the desert, screaming and beating everything up. Puss would’ve loved to do so, too.

“Come in with me?” she asked in a whisper, kissing his shoulder, lips staying there as she waited for a response.

Puss closed his eyes, breath so unsteady he wasn’t sure he could walk without fainting.

“I...” he tried to say, but the words choked in his throat. He felt so much like crying.

“Shh, I know...” Dulcinea comforted him, hugging a little tighter. “ _I know._ ”

The first drops of rain fell on his face, mingling with salty tears as he softly took a shuddering breath, trying hard to stifle the pitiful sob in his throat.

Another anniversary of his banishment from his home. Seven years. Seven years in exile, seven years of dishonor, seven years of regret, anger and weeping.

It might seem that after all this time he had already forgotten, that he didn't care anymore, that he found a new home, a new family.

But he could never forget.

“I’m here.” she whispered, placing a few wet, open-mouthed kisses down his neck and spine, feeling him shake in her arms. “I’m not going to leave you.” she reassured and as if to lend credence to her words, she hugged him a little tighter.

He couldn't forget, but at least Dulcinea was right there for him, helping him through it.

“Thank you...” he purred weakly, barely audible in the rising wind, but she didn't need to hear it. She knew.

“Let's go inside.” she said, tearing herself slightly away from his back and gently pulling him with her. “It's gonna really start pouring.”

For a moment he seemed not to hear her words, staring intently into the distance, but all he could see was darkness. He sighed, turning in her embrace. Their eyes met. It was raining on their faces, but they ignored it.

“Please...” he whispered, his eyes filling with new tears that he tried desperately to blink away. “ _Please..._ ” he said again, his burning throat did not let him finish.

But she knew.

She led him inside.

That night it was Dulcinea who took care of _him_.

And she did it exactly as he needed. She helped him forget, if only for a moment, and then let him cry a little more on her shoulder, alternately throughout the night, whispering sweet nothings to his ear and trying her best to keep her gaze locked with his. Drying his tears and kissing his trembling lips softly.

“ _Everything is okay.”_

“ _You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you.”_

“ _I’m going to protect you.”_

“ _Just focus on my heartbeat.”_

“ _Breathe.”_

“ _I love you.”_

“I love you too.” he whispered, looking adoringly at Dulcinea, whose face was only a millimeter from his. Her lovely eyes were closed, long black lashes touched her cheeks. She breathed calmly, steadily, and occasionally a barely audible sigh escaped from between her sweet lips.

Trying not to wake her up, he pushed himself up on one elbow and pressed his lips to her forehead in the most tender kiss he could. He remained in this position for a few seconds.

With a soft peck he broke away from her. She purred, curling into a ball, tightening the covers tightly around her.

“Thank you.”

He left the room.

He went to the cantina. He mingled with Pajuna. He spoke to Artephius. He teased Eames. He played dodgeball with the orphans. And he was smiling all day.

It was not true that he did not miss his home. It was not true that the old wounds did not hurt him. It was not true that he was not aching. But he felt he didn't need to pretend anymore. He felt that he finally had someone, who looked out for him.

Someone who taught him that sometimes it was alright _not_ to be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> It seems I have a thing for depressed and mentally tired Puss. Oh well.


End file.
